One Night More
by listeningtothestorm
Summary: Enjolras might spend his days focused on the rebellion, but Grantaire waits patiently to be part of his nights. Lyrics from the song 'Some Nights' by Fun. do not belong to me, no copyright infringement is intended.


One More Night

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_Some nights I stay up cashing in my bad luck_

_Some nights I call it a draw_

_Some nights I wish that my lips could build a castle_

_Some nights I wish they'd just fall off_

It had been a long and lonely night on a barstool for Grantaire, one of many that seemed to be creeping up on him lately. Surrounded by fools and children, staring at the dregs of whiskey pooling at the bottom of a dirty glass, debating whether or not it was even worth going home at the end of the night. He'd only be straight back to the ABC in the morning anyway.

Then, before he could so much as drain the last of his drink and demand another, a ray of light burst in through the door, shining impossibly and dancing lightly across the scuffed and bare floorboards to sit at the bar next to him and order a vin tannat.

The man's voice sung like a cold fountain on a hot summer afternoon and his eyes burned like fire when he smiled.

_This is it, boys, this is war - what are we waiting for?_

_Why don't we break the rules already?_

_I was never one to believe the hype_

_Save that for the black and white_

_I try twice as hard and I'm half as liked,_

_But here they come again to jack my style_

It was easy to sit in the back of the meetings and get quietly drunk. Not many people noticed him, unless he wanted them to, and then they never forgot him. Their politics were shaky and their ambitions optimistic at best, but Enjolras captured them and carried them all along with his vision every single time he opened his mouth. The other students followed with their eyes open and adoring; Grantaire stumbled along with the love that only a blind man can hold for the light. Sometimes they tried to stop him from drinking so much whilst they made their grand plans, and Enjolras would get involved, and he would put his bottle down for the night. But not for too long.

_That's alright;_

_I found a martyr in my bed tonight_

_Stops my bones from wondering just who I am, who I am, who I am_

_Oh, who am I? Mmm... Mmm..._

Some nights were better than others. Walking through the streets of Paris after dark side by side with him, half-listening to his charming voice talking on in it's terrible way, half concentrating on sobering up enough to make it back to his own apartments this time. Debates that became arguments in the fading candlelight of the cafe, which in turn, became passionate embraces in the growing dawn the next morning. Enjolras was beautiful in a way few men could ever be, and terrible, and often downright terrifying - but he could have torn Grantaire limb from limb and he would not have complained. As long as he was there, close and reassuring, framed by broken moonlight and grim determination.

It must be nice, Grantaire thought absently one of those nights, to believe in something so much.

_Well, some nights I wish that this all would end_

_'Cause I could use some friends for a change._

_And some nights I'm scared you'll forget me again_

_Some nights I always win, I always win..._

Others were not so good. The Friends of the ABC tolerated his presence as long as he kept his mouth shut about their politics, but sometimes a glass of wine too many and the words tumbled out of his mouth no matter how hard he tried. Bitterness deep within him reared it's ugly head in the presence of so much optimism, his sharp outbursts and sarcastic laughter easily quelling the spirits of most of the students.

But never Enjolras. No, it was clear that he would always be a very low second to the revolution in their leader's eyes, and that was never an easy idea to swallow. Far easier to keep swallowing the sour liquids and waiting, always waiting to become important to someone again.

_But I still wake up, I still see your ghost_

_Oh, Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for, oh_

_What do I stand for? What do I stand for?_

_Most nights I don't know... (oh, come on)_

Enjolras could raise an army with his words. He could have moved the very dirt they stood on to rebel alongside them if he had so cared to, so it was easy enough for him to start having an effect on his favourite cynic's beliefs. Sometimes it seemed as if Grantaire was incapable of believing anything at all, other times it was as if he believed too much and too many things that made no sense at all. But when Enjolras cornered him at the end of one night in the empty cafe and demanded to know why, why he was willing to give his life for a cause he had so little faith in, what it was that he stood for, what he believed in, the answer came to his lips without a second thought.

He believed in Enjolras.

The answer didn't stay on his lips for very long after that.

_Man, you wouldn't believe the most amazing things that can come from..._

_Some terrible lies... ah..._

Nothing could have made him truely support the student's cause, not even Enjolras' powerful words. He had seen too much of life and the futility of hope to ever place his faith in a concept again. Placing it firmly in the hands of a man, that was the best option. Letting them all believe he was with them as a brother and friend, to die for their freedom.

But it wasn't a lie. Not really. The long nights spent tangled in cheap sheets, clinging on to each other's opposites and soaking up each other's desperation, the short days spent drinking and laughing while there was time still to laugh, those were not lies. Those are the things Grantaire would happily die for.

_The other night you wouldn't believe the dream I just had about you and me_

The night before the attack he dreams he is a living shadow, dragged down into corners by his own hatred of the world and cynicism of the sun. But shadows cannot exist without the light that casts them, and they must follow it around to continue living. When the light is extinguished, so too are the shadows, and that is a fact that can't be escaped.

Yes, Grantaire realised. It could never have been any other way. So when the time comes to take Enjolras' hand in his one last time and step forward into the permanent darkness together, he does not hesitate to step forward and make his lover, his friend, his leader, smile as they die.

He is not afraid of the dark.

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Hope you enjoyed this! I've always loved these two, so I couldn't help myself once I started thinking about Grantaire and how much this song reminded me of him. Let me know what you thought? :)


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